In The Camps
by Lord Kristine
Summary: A story about what happened to the Stegoceratops.
1. Penumbra

"I'm flying, Mama, I'm flying!"

Penumbra squealed with glee as she made a particularly daring leap over a fallen log. Her plates fluttered rapidly, emitting a high-pitched whirring sound, and her feet kicked up dust as she hit the ground. She turned, giving a bold snort, and repeated the jump. She grunted as she once again touched down.

"Did you see, Mama? Did you see?"

Her mother smiled.

"Of course I saw, Sweetheart. You're doing great."

"I'm flying!"

"Not quite, but you're getting there."

Penumbra scrunched up her face and flitted her plates. She didn't rise from the ground, but she felt a little lighter.

"I coulda sworn I was flying, Mama. I felt it."

Her mother smiled and nudged her shoulder with her beak.

"I know you're excited, but don't go jumping off cliffs just yet, Penny. You have to make sure you're strong enough to make it across before you leap."

"What if someone pushes me?"

"If they do, they'll have to deal with me. But let's hope no one is that cruel."

She nodded to the side.

"I think it's time to go now. We don't want to break curfew."

Penumbra hopped over the log twice more before following her mother out of the woods. The sun shone through the trees in clumps, dappling their backs with patches of light. Penumbra noticed that her mother's massive feet made a great deal of sound when she walked, so she tried to do the same. Being much smaller, she was unable to accomplish her goal.

After a few seconds of stomping, she galloped forward and grabbed hold of her mother's tail with her beak. She would often walk this way when they were moving through crowds, because Penumbra happened to be skinny, and wasn't able to brave the sea of bodies like someone as large as her mother. She was a veritable tank! It was wise to hold onto her tail and never let go. She couldn't think of anything more terrifying than losing her mother.

Speaking of which, they were moving into town now, so the mass of bodies was once again an issue. They wove between humans and stegoceratopses, but mostly humans. There were more of them lately, or maybe there were less stegoceratopses.

Penumbra let go of her mother's tail when she saw a cart full of apples. She licked her lips and ran up to it, wagging her tail eagerly.

"Apples, Mama!"

Her mother turned her head gently.

"Those apples aren't for us, Sweetheart."

"It says they're for sale."

"Not for stegoceratopses. Just for humans."

"But what's the point of that? I'd eat ten times as many apples as a human. Why can't we buy some?"

"Nevermind that, Penny. I don't have money, anyway, so let's keep moving."

Penumbra cocked her head and looked at the apples sadly. She was very hungry after her flight practice, and she didn't see any harm in having a bite to eat. Maybe if she told the seller how hungry she was, he might make an exception to his rule. Then again, her mother didn't have any money, so she'd be wasting her time.

"Penny."

She turned around and scampered up to her mother.

"It's okay, Mama. I can wait until we get home."

As she spoke these words, the door of the shop behind the cart opened, and a burly man stormed towards them. Penumbra had to crane her neck to see his head, which was perched on his shoulder like a watermelon, for he had no visible neck. A clump of curly hair poured out of his shirt, which had a low collar. He smelled funny, Penumbra thought.

"Get outta here. We don't serve your kind."

Penumbra's mother backed away, herding her daughter gently with her front foot.

"We're aware. We were just leaving."

"I saw your kid sniffing around my cart. If she stole anything-"

"My daughter is well-behaved, sir. She didn't touch a thing."

He laughed.

"Trained like a dog. Still, I'm not keen on having her breathe all over my produce. Don't come back, you hear?"

"We weren't planning to."

As they marched away, another man walked up to the cart. He was young, probably only eighteen or so, and had short hair. His eyes glossed over Penumbra as she stared over her shoulder with longing. She looked away quickly, hoping he hadn't seen how much the store owner's remark had hurt her. Apparently, he hadn't. To add insult to injury, he was buying an apple. Perfect.

As Penumbra slunk away, however, she heard his footsteps approaching her. He bent down and handed her the apple. She was too shocked to understand, at first, but he held it closer to her face, and she plucked it up with her beak delicately. She smiled up at him through the fruit, and he smiled back. Penumbra's mother opened her mouth to thank him, but was cut off when the store owner marched up to the man.

"Where do you get off, giving away my merchandise!"

"I bought the apple. It's my choice what I do with it."

"I have rules."

"But you're not the one who enforces them."

The young man pulled some sort of badge out of his pocket, and the store owner's face fell. He stumbled backwards, holding up his hands defensively.

"My apologies. I was unaware that you were a soldier. You don't look-"

"It doesn't matter what I look like. We are what we are, and I don't take too kindly to aggressive remarks."

The store owner gave a nervous laugh. His bald head was glistening with sweat.

"Hey, no harm done. What if I gave you an extra something, huh? As you said, you bought the apple . . ."

He surrendered the fruit to the soldier, who proceeded to trot over to where Penumbra and her mother were watching the scene unfold. He tossed them the second apple, and Penumbra had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing when she saw the store owner's face. Her mother whispered a word of thanks before shepherding her daughter away from the shop. When the bell on the door gave a tinkle, signaling the departure of the merchant, Penumbra peeked over her shoulder to look at the soldier. He smiled and winked at her, and she tried to do the same, but ended up blinking.

Even so, she was sure he knew what she meant.


	2. Monsanto

When the young stegoceratops had rounded the corner, Monsanto turned back the way he came and jogged over to his jeep. He hoped he had given the merchant enough of a scare that he would think twice about turning down customers, but then again, he wasn't one hundred percent to blame. As a point of fact, Monsanto had technically done something illegal, or at least frowned upon by the governor of their fine province. Joninashiparthua Wala was not fond of the stegoceratops race, but then again, few were. Monsanto himself didn't mind them, though he sometimes grew agitated when they questioned his authority. Of course, anyone who challenged him got on his nerves regardless of race, but lately, the stegoceratops had been particularly aggressive. That might feed into the stereotype that they were more violent than humans, only they had good reason to question him. Judging by some of the tasks other soldiers had carried out, Monsanto could see why there was a bias against his kind. That's why he took extra care to help out wherever possible. He had always believed that respect was easier to maintain through admiration rather than fear, and there was only so much he could do to scare a two-ton dinosaur anyway. Besides, the girl was hungry, and the shopkeeper seemed like an ass.

All in all, Monsanto was proud of his charity, but the feeling quickly dissolved when his supervising general slammed the door of their car. He marched away from the vehicle with a tight jaw, and Monsanto couldn't decide whether it would be best to stand his ground or beg for forgiveness. He'd have to wait and see how badly he'd screwed up, he supposed.

"Monsanto, don't ever do that again."

"Ever do what?"

"Don't play dumb. You helped a stegoceratops."

"So?"

"Don't help them. They're trash."

"She was just a kid."

"So she's soon-to-be trash. You shoulda kicked the little steglet while you had the chance."

Monsanto's mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"Teach her a lesson. Show her who's boss."

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

His supervisor laughed.

"They're animals, Monsanto. Think of it as kicking a cow."

"I don't particularly like to kick cows either."

"That's 'cuz they fight back. We have to stop them from doing that."

"The cows?"

"The stegoceratops."

Monsanto paused before answering.

"Well, that's why we're keepers of the peace. If any of them cause trouble-"

"They ARE the trouble, Monsanto," he insisted, "They're the root of our misery. Didn't you ever wonder why this drought happened in the first place? They've been eating more than their share."

Monsanto shrugged.

"They need more food than us."

"So do cows, but we don't let them walk among us."

"Again with the cows . . ."

"All I'm saying is that our problems would be solved if the stegoceratops were to disappear."

Monsanto snuffed and hopped into the jeep.

"Yeah, well that's not gonna happen."

His general gave a small smile.

"I wouldn't doubt it, Monsanto. I really wouldn't."


	3. The Queen

When Penumbra got home, her beak was dripping with juice from the apple. She licked it up with a big grin, and her mother handed her the second fruit. She tore into this one just as eagerly, relishing the deep crunching sound it made. Over on the rocking chair, Aunt Thistle was weaving a basket. She wasn't really Penumbra's Aunt, of course, but she had been staying with them ever since they moved away from the farm. She gave a little cough and pointed at Penumbra accusingly.

"You'd better not be wasting my money."

Her mother gave a defensive snort.

"Don't panic, Thistle. It was a gift from a soldier."

"It's probably poisoned."

Penumbra scowled at Aunt Thistle. How could she be so mean? The soldier had been kind to her, and the old grump had the nerve to be . . . prickly! What was she going on about? The soldier wouldn't have had time to poison the apple, anyway. Aunt Thistle was just plain dumb.

"Ain't no soldier ever done nothing to help us stegoceratopses," Thistle grouched, "They're all a bunch of good-for-nothing, dense, human brutes!"

Penumbra's mother shut the door with her tail.

"That's not true. The soldier we ran into today was very kind."

Thistle scoffed.

"You're so naïve, Scrim. He's just putting on a show. Patronizing you."

Penumbra stomped her foot.

"Well, I think he was awful nice, and you shouldn't say bad things about people when they're nice to you."

Thistle leaned forward and frowned. Penumbra could count the wrinkles on her face.

"Listen here, Penny. Those boys don't mean nothing but trouble for you. You may think they're kind, but they'll turn on you in a heartbeat. Times are changing, princess, and you don't wanna be here when they do."

Penumbra's mother stepped between them with a snort.

"That's enough! Thistle, you need to stop eating the rotten grass, and if you do, spare us your delusions."

Aunt Thistle gave a barking laugh that was almost a croak.

"You'll see, Scrimmy. You'll see. Things ain't what they used to be . . ."

Penumbra's mother gave her a deep frown of warning, and Thistle's face softened. She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, shrugging off the exchange in order to absolve herself of the subtle defeat. Penumbra watched as her mother lumbered into the kitchen, then she sat down on the carpet to play with her dolls. Thistle watched her from behind her dusty spectacles, and she felt a little uncomfortable. After a few minutes of ignoring her, Penumbra lifted her head.

"What did you mean, Aunt Thistle? What's changing?"

"Nevermind," she replied, giving a side-glance to the kitchen, "It's not for you to know."

Penumbra didn't like that answer. She placed her dolls gently in the corner of the room and waddled up to her. The old stegoceratops licked her lips and took a deep breath.

"Listen, sweetheart, the world don't like people like you and me. Your mother, neither. It's just the way things been ever since we came here."

Penumbra cocked her head.

"I thought the Stegoceratops were gifts from the gods."

"It may have started that way, Penny, but things change. They've forgotten the ways of the Old Ones, these humans have. We wasn't meant to be divided, and now that this separation has begun . . ."

She made a quiet sound and put her face in her front foot. Penumbra crawled onto her lap and gave her a nudge.

"Aunt Thistle, tell me about the Queen."

She scoffed.

"Oi gevalt, Penny. The story never changes, and you must have it memorized by now . . ."

"I like hearing it, all the same."

Thistle gave a deep sigh, then began her story.

"The Queen of the Stegoceratops will appear in our darkest hour. When all else has been forgotten, the hope of her arrival will remain. She will lead us into a new age, one of peace and prosperity."

"Tell me the words."

"You know them."

"Tell me."

She chuckled.

"The queen of the stegoceratops shall be recognized by her people, for she has a third horn on her snout to signify her royalty. Having fallen from the sky on a ball of fire, she is divine, and may not be killed by any creature woman-born. She will lead her people to fight the army of trumpeting elephants, brought on by Flat-Sailed June. The queen carries in her the magical Lilylotusdrop, white flower of Tall Mountain, which we call Moly. She is bound to the earth and to her people. Should she attempt to escape her fate, the results will be disastrous."

Penumbra stared out the window with starry eyes.

"What does it mean?"

"It means she's going to save us."

"From what?"

"Flat-Sailed June."

"What's that?"

"I don't know. A boat, maybe?"

"How does a boat lead elephants?"

Thistle gave an exasperated sigh.

"Penny, it's just a story."

"It's real. She's real. I know it."

Thistle had adopted one of her trademark scowls, but before she could reply, Penumbra's mother rounded the corner.

"I agree. We have nothing, if not faith. The Queen will come for us."

Penumbra grinned.

"I want to meet her! I want to meet her so I can tell her that I believed!"

Thistle snorted.

"Don't be foolish, Penny. Would you wish a blight upon us just to be rescued? Be thankful that you'll never know hardship, and the Queen will never have a reason to visit."

Penumbra's face fell. It was true that she didn't want to live during difficult times, but to see the three-horned Queen in all her glory . . . It would be a dream come true.

"I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna meet the Queen."

"You wouldn't see her if you lived to be a hundred."

Penumbra gave a determined snort.

"Then I'll live to be five hundred, and then some, because no matter what, I'm going to meet her."


	4. Bystander

Monsanto returned to the same street he had roamed a week prior, and funnily enough, he once again saw the dark Stegoceratops and her mother. The child was flitting her plates, and once or twice during a bound, she'd hover in midair. Monsanto knew that Stegoceratops had the ability to fly, but as of late, he hadn't seen them dotting the sky except on very rare occasions. Because of the work mandate, they were forced to plow the fields for the majority of their day, which meant that they wouldn't have time for such things. Monsanto wondered if their flight muscles got any practice at all, and decided that the child must be training in the forest. Her mother was undoubtedly relieved of farming duty, assuming she had a husband to provide for her. Perhaps she had retired. She certainly looked old, though with a child so young, it was unlikely that she was over thirty. Perhaps she simply appeared to be aged because of her exhaustion after hours of teaching her daughter how to fly. Yes, that must be it. Lucky for her, she had crossed Monsanto's path while he still had a pocket full of change.

He jogged over to the apple cart and handed the shopkeeper a few coins. He scooped five apples into a bag, then made a dash for the two Stegoceratops. When the mother caught sight of him, she went rigid. The child recognized him immediately, and gave a big smile. He pulled an apple out of his bag and held it out for her, crouching down as he did, but when she rushed over to meet him, her mother swatted her with her tail and shepherded her away hurriedly. Monsanto was deeply confused. Last week, she had been polite to him, so why now was she so afraid?

He stood up to ask her what was going on, but she was already halfway down the block. Still, he marched after her. It was then that the young one spoke.

"Mama, why can't we take the apple?"

"It's time to go home. We can't be late."

"It won't take long!"

"Shush, Penny. We're leaving."

The child's face brightened.

"Mama, he might know where they took Aunt Thistle!"

She yelped as her mother squeezed her with her tail. They rounded the corner, and Monsanto slowed to a stop. Everything was becoming clear now, and judging by the direction they were headed, they lived in a ghetto that he would be visiting later that day. He looked down at the apple in his hand. He didn't so much as blink for a good minute. Then, he put the apple in the bag with the rest and left them by the side of the road.

It wasn't up to him to decide anyone's fate.


	5. Taken

The sky was white when Penumbra and her mother arrived home. It was as if someone had draped an old wedding dress over the heavens, and despite the vastness of the clouds, something about the grayish color made Penumbra feel claustrophobic. It seemed like a good day to stay inside and play with her dolls. She would perhaps take a break from the activity to watch the rain when it came. Penumbra liked to play a game where she watched two drops on the window to see which one fell first. Sometimes, they were so close that when they touched, they snapped together like magnets. She liked that. But today was not going to be one of those playful days, she knew, because as soon as they round the corner of the block, they saw soldiers standing at their door.

Penumbra's mother froze like a deer. Although she didn't show it, there was a pulsing aura in her stomach that stemmed from the kind of fear one experiences when they realize that the worst possible scenario they could imagine has come to pass, and despite their positive outlook on life, that lingering paranoia had been right all along. It was the stuff of nightmares: a moment in which the most absurd and drastic of reactions was necessary. Penumbra's mother was ready to run, to leave everything behind to save her and her daughter, but she made the fatal mistake of hesitating long enough that her daughter grew impatient.

Penumbra, who had frozen on instinct as her mother did, suddenly perked up, and began to bolt towards the soldiers. Her mother's mouth opened, but she could not speak. She was rooted to the ground until her daughter called out.

"They must have found Aunt Thistle!"

She grunted as her mother grabbed her, having been snapped out of her stupor. She tried to shepherd her away, but it was too late. They had been seen. Slowly, Penumbra's mother carried out a motion that implied she hadn't been on the verge of running, and lumbered up to the soldiers with lead feet.

"Good afternoon," she said calmly.

"Are you Scrim Shadesberg?"

She nodded slowly.

"That's me, yes."

"You are to evacuate this area immediately."

Penumbra had been frightened by the soldiers' stern looks, thinking that they had bad news to deliver about Aunt Thistle, but now she found herself deeply confused. There was nothing wrong with the house as far as she knew, so there was no need to evacuate. Whatever was going on, it made her mother just as nervous as she was, if not more.

"Please, officers, there must be some mistake," she quavered, "We've been working hard, paying our dues-"

"You've been widowed for over a year now, correct?"

Her lower beak trembled.

"Yes, but-"

"You are supporting a child who does not work."

She gulped.

"Well, we have enough money to keep us afloat, and I've never shirked a bill-"

"Money is not the issue here. You are to be moved."

"Moved?"

"You will follow us to the train station with the rest. Don't make this difficult."

Penumbra tugged on her mother's tail.

"Are we going on a trip, Momma?"

She shook her head quickly.

"No, Penny, there's been a mistake."

"We don't make mistakes," a soldier grunted, "Your name is on the list."

Penumbra's mother swallowed, then looked from left to right. Other stegoceratopses were being driven down the road. She turned back to the soldiers, not looking them in the eye.

"This is our home."

"This land belongs to the humans. You must join your herd."

With a sunken mien, Penumbra's mother turned, wrapping her tail around her daughter's waist. As they wove into the crowd, Penumbra looked over her shoulder with distress.

"How long will we be gone for, Mama? Can't I take my dolls?"

"Keep moving, Penny."

They dragged themselves down the road in this manner, utterly silent, until they reached the train station. The others were filing into dark compartments filled with hay. Penumbra's mother took a breath without sound.

"We'll tell the customs officer that there's been a mistake. We'll clear this up. Everything is going to be okay."

She mumbled to herself a little, and she was so preoccupied that she nearly missed the booth. Penumbra nipped her leg, and she batted her eyes in dazed surprise. She shook her head, and Penumbra leaned against her leg. They made their way to the office window, where a young man was reading a newspaper. Penumbra's mother cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, but there's been a mistake."

The boy looked up.

"No mistake. This is where you're meant to be."

The corner of her mouth twitched. She inhaled, then forced a smile.

"Sir, my daughter is only four, and we've been out all day-"

"Listen, Lady. This here's the right place. Go on and board the train with the others."

They became aware of a stegoceratops in the crowd who had begun to protest. The young male raised his voice, telling off a group of officers. Penumbra's mother ignored him, but her daughter watched the exchange with interest.

"I don't mean to be a bother, but we've really done nothing wrong, and I'd appreciate a revision in our files."

The boy scowled.

"You'll be taken care of."

The argument was getting more heated. Penumbra cocked her head as the troublemaker began to thump the ground with his tail.

"See, that's just it. Me and my daughter, we have everything we need at home. We're no trouble to anyone, really."

The male tossed his head. He was starting to yell.

"We live alone- Well, ever since Thistle was taken. But we really mean you no harm . . ."

The stegoceratops was shouting loud enough for everyone to hear. Heads were turning, and Penumbra's mother caught sight of the quarrel out of the corner of her eye. One of the soldiers reached for his hip, and there was a glimmer. In a split second, she grabbed her daughter and covered her eyes.

BANG!

Certain dinosaurs reared up in response to the shot, and others began to bolt away. There were screams, and in a matter of seconds, the station was filled with chaos. Penumbra and her mother were at the edge of this eruption. They hurried around the perimeter, and Penumbra thought she saw the troublemaker lying on his side, but it was hard to tell, because bodies were charging to and fro. In a desperate attempt to escape, Penumbra's mother tore through the crowd, opening a path for her daughter. She was able to dodge the stampeding feet, but she could not keep up with her mother.

"MAMA!"

"HURRY, PENNY!"

"I CAN'T, MAMA! SLOW DOWN!"

A thin stegoceratops darted between her and her mother, separating them. Penumbra leapt from side to side, trying to get her bearings, and her heart felt like it was about to burst. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she gave a helpless whine. The soldiers were beginning to rope the others. A large male was pulled down as he stood on his hind legs, landing very close to Penumbra. She shrieked as his eyes rolled back to look at her, and when she stumbled back in fear, she was nearly trampled by a wall of legs. She screamed, not knowing what else to do, and it was then that she heard her mother. Her dark form was visible through the streaks of color, and Penumbra ran towards it, praying that she'd be quick enough to reach her. She began to flit her plates desperately. It seemed like she might have a chance of flying, but a horn caught her across the brow, and she was knocked out.


	6. On The Train

Monsanto could hear the wails of the passengers in the compartment behind him. They had given up on trying to escape a half hour ago, but they continued to low and groan like animals. It made him uneasy, but his two associates didn't seem to mind. Their faces were partly concealed by playing cards, one of which was dangerously close to a lit cigar that dangled out of the older soldier's mouth. Monsanto nodded to it lightly.

"Siemens, you oughta put that out."

"Why?"

"You're choking Bayer."

The younger soldier looked up.

"I don't mind. It's better than the smoke at the camps, anyway."

Monsanto winced as a young stegoceratops began to cry.

"Do you think they'll quiet down?"

Siemens pulled the cigar out of his mouth and tapped it.

"I could go back and give them a scare."

"No, that's okay."

They sat in silence for a while, until Siemens leaned forward. Monsanto avoided his gaze.

"You going soft?"

Monsanto shook his head.

"No. I just don't like seeing people in pain."

"They're animals, Monsanto."

"I don't like seeing anyone in pain."

Siemens snorted.

"Not much of a man, are you?"

"I'm a man."

"How? You don't hunt, you never talk to women-"

"I'm working."

He laughed. Ash dropped down from his cigar, smudging the table.

"Moron. These uniforms aren't a symbol of pride like they say. Only thing they're good for is showing others who's boss."

"I prefer not to."

Siemens elbowed Bayer.

"We oughta find Monsanto a girl. He needs some action."

"Not interested."

"Come on. Be a man."

"There's more to being a man than sleeping around."

"Not much more. Have some fun. It comes easy when you're a soldier. Hell, I'll bet there's a new load of females on the train right now."

Monsanto's eyes went wide.

"Siemens . . ."

"What?"

"Have you been . . ."

He scoffed.

"Sure, but it don't matter! They'll do it for extra food, no problem. Fat cows."

Monsanto and Bayer exchanged a worried look.

"Siemens, you shouldn't be doing that," Bayer muttered.

"They're just animals."

"In that case, you REALLY shouldn't be doing that."

He snuffed in offense.

"What do you two know? You're barely men. I never been caught once, anyhow . . . If you squeal-"

"We won't, but you should stop," Monsanto asserted.

Siemens leaned back in his seat. He inhaled deeply, then puffed a particularly large cloud of smoke.

"I'll do what I want, gents. As far as I'm concerned, that's the only use you'll get out of a stegoceratops . . . until they open up the new butchery, that is."


	7. Branding

Penumbra didn't enjoy the train ride. She had heard about trains before, but somehow, she was under the impression that they were supposed to have seats. There was nothing like that on this train. It was dark, crowded, and dirty. Luckily, her mother was in the same compartment as her. She had apparently scooped her up shortly after she was knocked out, and . . . well . . .

"Mama, was it my fault we got caught?"

Her mother shook her head slowly.

"No, sweetheart, no. It's no one's fault."

Penumbra leaned up against her leg and shivered.

"I don't like this very much."

"Me neither, sweetheart."

One of the males standing nearby gave a snort.

"Remind me to ride first class next time."

Penumbra cocked her head.

"What's that?"

He shrugged.

"First class is where the humans ride. The ones who can afford it, anyway. It's a joke, honey."

"Maybe we can ask to change seats."

He laughed bitterly.

"That ain't gonna work, honey, because them humans always like things to be organized. It's like a circus train, see? They got the ringmaster, the workers, the elephants . . ."

"So we're the elephants?"

"Maybe to the humans . . ."

All of a sudden, Penumbra's face brightened.

"Elephants! Hey, Mama! It's just like the story! Tell me the story!"

"Not now, sweetheart."

Another little girl wove through the crowd.

"You talking 'bout the Queen? Mommy says she gonna come rescue us."

"Now?" Penumbra beamed, secretly thrilled that all it took was a train ride to summon the Queen.

"She'd better come soon," the male muttered, "Or some of us might not make it through the night."

His words made Penumbra tremble. She didn't want to believe that he meant it in the way she thought, but she was having a hard time coming up with an alternative interpretation. As she pondered this, the train screeched to a halt, and there was a very long wait. She could hear the doors of every compartment opening. The noise was getting closer. Finally, they were let out, but it was not a blessing. The train was in the middle of a track that sliced through what looked like a factory. It was ashy and gray, and one attribute in particular caught Penumbra's attention. A concrete pillar rose from one of the buildings, puffing thick, black smoke into the sky. For some reason, the sight of this lunting cylinder made Penumbra go rigid, and she felt her insides twist with discomfort. Her mother soon urged her on, however, and she was forced to break her stare.

They were herded deeper into the compound, until they came to a barb wire fence with two openings. The children, it seemed, were being split away from the main group to be rounded up in one pen, while the adults entered through the other door. The children's area was awful close to the pipe, Penumbra noticed, and this made her uncomfortable.

"Mama, I don't have to leave you, do I?"

She nuzzled her gently.

"No, Penny. No. We'll stay together."

When it came time for them to split apart, her mother had a word with one of the soldiers. She asked if they could make an exception for her and Penumbra. The soldier looked her over, then gave an oily smile. He said they might be able to work out an arrangement.

Although Penumbra was glad to be with her mother, a part of her wanted to stay with the children. She didn't much understand these adults, especially when they seemed keen to withhold information from her. Anyway, they entered a strange building, and Penumbra was alarmed to smell blood in the air. Her skin was crawling by the time they were admitted into a small chamber. Everyone else was going into the chambers one by one, but Penumbra was able to fit with her mother, which would be less wasteful, according to the soldiers. Of course, no one had any idea what was going on, but Penumbra heard the word "radon".

The chamber, as it turned out, was the least of her worries. Although it felt unpleasant to stand inside of it (something like being spooked, only it also made her sick), what came next was much, much worse.

The smell of blood grew stronger, and they were brought to a room with long pieces of metal on the wall. They were like swords, only they had a funny curve to them. To Penumbra's horror, one of the soldiers used a metal stick to cut into her mother's side, dragging it near the base of her plates. There was a snipping sound, and one by one, her plates began to go limp, jutting out at random angles. Her mother's eyes filled with tears, and she bit her beak. He cut the other side, then knelt down to do the same to Penumbra. One of the soldiers stopped the man with the sword, stating that it wouldn't matter, because children couldn't be clipped. They would have to wait.

Next was the worst part of all. They were brought into a hot room that smelled of metal. A burly man was holding some sort of stick over a pot of fire. When he pulled it out, Penumbra saw glowing letters on the end. Without warning, they thrust it against her side. She screamed and started crying. They did the same to her mother. Unfortunately, whatever they had hoped to accomplish wasn't working. Their flanks were too dark for the brand, it seemed. They tried again and again, but didn't succeed. The pain was unbearable.

But they found a way to make it work.

With a flat piece of metal, they scraped Penumbra's scales away, leaving a bare spot on her leg. It was on this exposed flesh that they branded her. She limped away from the building, screaming on the inside, but otherwise silent, and followed her mother to where they would be sleeping. They curled up together on the stone floor, and Penumbra peeked over her shoulder. Through the blood, she could see two black letters on her thigh.

She did not sleep that night.


	8. Progress

Monsanto did not sleep well the night the new load of stegoceratops was brought into the camp. They tended to make noise the first few days, because the newly captured animals had not yet accepted the fact that this was their new reality. They were not escaping, and there was very little chance that this would change. There had been no successful breakouts. Not one. The stegoceratops were doomed. They would work here and they would die here. This was their new home.

Well, maybe not a home, exactly.

Monsanto never really had a good idea of what "home" was, just like he didn't know what "family" was. He had been taken by the military when he was a child, and thus had little to no memory of those warm, tender moments that seemed so important to other people. There were times when he wished that he could have experienced love and companionship, and he often found himself yearning for that which had been denied to him at such a young age. This was mostly true for his mother, a woman whom he didn't remember in the slightest.

Maybe.

Sometimes, about once a month, Monsanto would dream of a dark-haired woman. He was sure that she was his mother, but perhaps only in his mind. She might very well be a product of his imagination, and not an actual memory. Still, he liked to believe that he had some recollection of the woman. It would be awful, he thought, to forget the person who for all intents and purposes should have been the most important figure in his life. That would make him a bad person, and he did not want to be a bad person. So what was he doing here?

"Monsanto!"

The whisper came from the bunk above him. He peeked over the edge.

"What do you want, Bayer?"

"Have you been dreaming again?"

He hesitated before replying.

"Yes, but it doesn't mean anything. It's just a subconscious thought. Besides, I can't get much sleep anyway with all the noise."

They paused to listen to the tormented braying from outside the barracks. Bayer looked out the window (not more than a hole in the wall), then turned back and sighed.

"Yeah. I almost feel bad for them."

"Almost?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, they're smart, but not as smart as us. If they had it their way, we'd be the ones in camps. Whichever one of us is in charge, the other side will suffer. Better them than us."

Monsanto closed his eyes, but found that the noise was more noticeable when he did. He shook his head.

"I like to think there is a way for us to get along."

"But there isn't. People and stegoceratopses, we're both inherently selfish and evil. The only difference is that humans have the initiative to take charge."

Monsanto sat up a little.

"I was wondering about that, actually. Are we all inherently bad? Even if we are, I'm sure our learned behaviors could allow us to be less self-serving."

"Humans, maybe. But the stegoceratops race is uncivilized. They're no better than rutting bulls. How are we supposed to accept them when they have such brutish instincts?"

Monsanto shook his head.

"I don't think they're all that primitive. Have you ever met one? Not the ones we capture, I mean. Just someone normal. They're tame, because they aren't busy fighting back."

"Are you taking their side? If you are, I'll have to report you."

Monsanto gulped.

"No, of course not. I'm just saying, how many of them have you shot, recently? They might see YOU as a brute."

Bayer shrugged.

"If they do, they're wrong. It's just like Wala says: we're fighting for a noble cause."

"I'm sure the stegoceratops believe the same thing."

"But they're deluded."

"How can we be sure that _we're_ not in the wrong?"

There was a long silence.

"We shouldn't be talking about this."

"I know. But I've been thinking about it, and killing is wrong. Fighting in general is wrong, regardless of what we're trying to accomplish. Maybe if we just took a second to talk-"

"But would they listen? Monsanto, words may be good in theory, but in the real world, whoever shoots first comes out on top. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be beneath some dinosaurs who think they know better than I do. It's us or them, like I always say."

Monsanto nodded slowly.

"I suppose. But there are those who want peace just as badly as I do."

"On which side?"

"Both."

Bayer rolled over the side of his bed and made eye contact with Monsanto for the first time.

"Our job is to protect our own. Our species-"

"And what divides us from the stegoceratops, exactly? A human can be violent. A stegoceratops can be violent. A human can be kind. A stegoceratops can be kind. It seems to me that the only differences between us are physical, and if that's all we're fighting against, well . . ."

Bayer scowled.

"Monsanto, we're soldiers. We fight for a better world."

"And what if I don't like fighting?"

Bayer snuffed.

"I know you don't. That's why you'll end up like the stegoceratops if you don't change your ways. We're just weeding out the weak. You know that."

"But is it right?"

"It's what nature wants."

"Nature can't want anything. It's a concept. Only living things can want, and we are living. Maybe your idea of progress is weeding out the weak, but that doesn't mean that nature itself seeks perfection. Life is about balance, not supremacy. Where would the tiger be without deer to prey upon?"

"So you admit that we need prey."

"That's not what I meant."

Bayer sighed.

"Alright, Monsanto. You keep dreaming. We'll see who comes out on top. Goodnight."

Monsanto rolled over to face the wall. Although he didn't want to admit it, he knew who would come out on top. The problem was, he wasn't sure being on top was so great after all.


	9. The Closet

The worst part of every day, for Penumbra at least, was when her mother would leave their prison to meet with the soldier from the gate. The other stegoceratopses were working, she knew (with the exception of the children, whom she never saw anymore), and her mother would join them sometimes, but for a few minutes each day, she met with that terrible man. Penumbra knew he was terrible, because he smelled funny and gave smiles that weren't friendly. She didn't like him. Not one bit.

At first, Penumbra's mother was allowed to visit her daughter between the meetings and work, but one day, the soldiers had enough of it, and forced her to give up these brief moments of rest. Penumbra got bored easily, and it wouldn't take long for her to run out of things to do. She'd scamper around the beds, jumping up on them sometimes, but as the effects of hunger set in, she found that she barely had the strength to move. She wasn't eating enough these days, and it was beginning to show. Her ribs were starting to press through her skin, and what little shine there was in her scales had been rubbed away, replaced by flakey, dull bumps. Speaking of her scales, the scraped-off patch was not healing well. Part of the reason for this was that Penumbra sometimes picked at it out of boredom, but it was also a terrible wound that would leave visible scars under any circumstance. All in all, things were looking pretty bad, but they were about to get worse.

The soldiers caught Penumbra jumping on the beds one day, and were about to send her to the smoke building, but one of them realized who she was, and not wanting to cross the soldier who had made the arrangement with her mother, decided to get rid of her by locking her up in a small closet. This tactic proved so effective that they repeated it the next day, and the next.

It was hard to say what bothered Penumbra the most about the closet. Perhaps it was the nails on the ground that prevented her from sleeping. Perhaps it was the cramped space, or the unbroken darkness. Of course, it could very well have been a combination of these factors. When she was inside, time slowed to a crawl. Sometimes, she would cry, but there came a point when she simply stared ahead with glazed eyes. It was at these times that she lost all hope, that she became less than alive. There was nothing beyond the darkness, and any happiness she might have recalled was simply a delusion. Her emptiness was as vast as an ocean. It nearly consumed her.

But every day, her mother would return. If there was one comfort in this hell, it was that she was not alone.


	10. Close Call

Monsanto lived in a state of constant fear. Not the kind of fear that was open and honest, but an unpleasant sensation that he was constantly walking on eggshells. Every time he spoke negatively about the camps, even if it was barely significant, he could feel tension building in the room. Soldiers would look away suddenly to disassociate themselves from him. He felt words melting in the air as they left his tongue, dripping to the floor, leaving evidence. There was a knot in his stomach that tightened as he attempted to question his situation. Of course, it was natural for the men to be uneasy about his opposing views, but it seemed to him that he shouldn't fear punishment for voicing his concerns. Luckily for him, Bayer hadn't reported his ponderings, and more often than not, he seemed to agree with him. Monsanto could not count on his full support, however. He was young, naïve, and all too willing to accept the way things were.

It was difficult living in an environment where critical thought was discouraged, and although Monsanto was one of many men in the barracks, he felt alone. Oddly enough, he related to the stegoceratops most of all, and would sometimes converse with them while they were forced to plow the fields. It was a bit unnerving for them, considering he carried a gun as he strolled beside them, but some of them would engage in idle chitchat now and then. He listened to their stories, and that made it so much harder when he escorted them to the burning room.

A year passed. Monsanto fell into a deep depression, or something like it. He still dreamed of the dark-haired woman, but she was often replaced by the agonized faces of dying stegoceratops. During one particularly long nightmare, he found himself wading through ash, and there was no question where it came from. It reached his waist, and as his hands glossed over it, it turned to blood. He awoke with the sensation of weeping in his chest, but there were no tears. He listened to the sound of his own broken breath and wondered why he was still allowed to breathe after everything he'd done.

Although Monsanto had never directly taken a life, he was just as much to blame as those who had. Everyone was. From the townsfolk who denied that anything was happening beyond their borders, to the soldiers who worked in silence, to Wala himself, no one was innocent. Monsanto tried to tell himself that he was not guilty of supporting the new regime, but he knew that it simply wasn't true. He considered leaving the army, but decided against it. Whether he stayed or left, he'd be burdened with the knowledge of what was happening, and that he had no power to stop it. He felt like a coward. Every smile from a human selling him bread made his stomach boil. They knew, and yet they still smiled. And was he any better? No, he was not.

One day, he heard a shriek in the hall. Two guards were chasing a young stegoceratops down the corridor. Monsanto thought she looked familiar, but he could have been mistaken. The child scampered between his legs, but hit the wall behind him. Before she could right herself, the men grabbed her.

"You're going to stay put in the closet like a good little girl," one of them hissed.

"Do it, or your mother won't come back today."

The girl whimpered. Monsanto was about to intervene, but Siemens rounded the corner, and the two soldiers fell silent. They placed the stegoceratops on the ground nervously, then backed away. Siemens nodded to the other end of the hall, and they departed. The stegoceratops watched them leave, then turned to him.

"Thank you."

"It was no problem. No problem at all," Siemens said slowly.

Secretly, Monsanto's inner alarm was starting to go off, and when Siemens crouched down in front of the child, he was unable to ignore the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Siemens gave a grin that made his skin crawl, then began to stroke the girl's frill.

"Why don't you come with me? I have some food in my bunker."

The girl's tail began to wag at the prospect of being well-fed for once. Monsanto felt his heart simultaneously leaping and plunging, and knew that this was one moment where he couldn't afford to be a bystander.

"Siemens, you oughta go back to the field. They'll be wondering where you are."

He looked up with a glare that frightened Monsanto, but he stood his ground. After a pause, Siemens sighed.

"Fine. I'll go. There's no use in wasting my time."

He turned back to the stegoceratops, placing his finger under her chin.

"I have a meeting with your mother later today."

He pulled his finger up, snapping her head back uncomfortably. As he marched away briskly, the stegoceratops turned to Monsanto with fire in her eyes. She was clearly upset that he had denied her a chance to be fed. More than anything, he wanted to tell her the truth, but he couldn't find the words. She trotted away bitterly, and Monsanto dragged himself in the opposite direction. Halfway down the hall, without warning, he whipped his head out the window and threw up. When he was done coughing, he wiped his mouth and continued on his journey.

He had no particular destination in mind.


	11. Flightless

Penumbra discovered the true impact of the camps on a foggy morning. She had been allowed to roam, which was unusual, but welcomed. Slowly, with a stride more suited for an elderly dinosaur, she dragged herself across a plowed field. The quiet of morning was broken by a white bird, which flitted to and fro in the pale sky. Penumbra watched it dive, and a spark was ignited in her tired eyes. Before the life she knew now, there had been a time when she wanted nothing more than to fly. And couldn't she still try for it? It was early, she was alone, she was free . . .

. . . but not quite.

She flitted her plates as fast as she could manage, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, they were barely moving. She tried to flap them in a strong burst, but they simply wiggled like a butterfly's wings at rest. It was then that she realized a horrid truth: the camps had taken away her ability to fly. Oh, they didn't need to clip her like the adults, though a drunken soldier had sliced her shoulder yesterday. All they needed to do was deprive her of food, water, and hope. And now she would be forever earthbound.

Penumbra hadn't cried much at the camps, or at least not as much as she expected; she was too busy staying alive to shed a tear. But this was enough to break her. The thought of never flying triggered a fit of sobbing that she could not fight. She limped back to her quarters as quickly as she could manage, hoping to avoid the sky she would no longer conquer. To her surprise, her mother was waiting for her. This was puzzling, but when she turned, Penumbra realized why she wasn't working at the moment. A significant chunk of her frill was missing on the left side, and the edge was caked with dry blood. Penumbra rushed over and wrapped herself around her mother's leg.

"Mama . . ."

"It's okay. It'll grow back."

Penumbra whimpered and leaned against her mother. They both sat down. Penumbra buried her face in her mother's shoulder as she curled her tail around her body. They shivered in the cold humidity of their prison.

The hopelessness was beginning to set in for good. The possibility of emancipation was seeming less and less plausible. This could very well be the end of . . . well, everything: Penumbra's freedom, a safe existence, the stegoceratops race in general . . . It would be over in a matter of years.

With this thought, however, Penumbra felt her hope reignite. If this truly was the most dire moment of the Stegoceratops' history, it would be the perfect time for the Queen to liberate them. Penumbra would even fight against the elephants from the prophecy, if it came to that. All she wanted was a chance to be free.

"Mama, the Queen will save us. She'll come here and set us free, won't she?"

A bell rang outside. As Penumbra's mother thought up a response, more stegoceratopses began to trickle into the room.

"I hope so, sweetheart. There's always a chance . . ."

"And I'll make sure not to give up until she's here. I know she's coming, Mama. I just know it! I'm going to do everything I can to make sure I'll live to see her."

"I know, Penny. You don't have to worry. As long as I'm here, I'll protect you. You'll live to see her, I promise."

"You will, too, Mama."

"Just as long as we keep believing."

Another stegoceratops, a red male, had been listening to their conversation. He seemed hesitant to butt in, at first, but seeing the hope in Penumbra's eyes, he leaned close to them and whispered.

"You won't have to wait for the Queen. Tomorrow, something interesting will occur. We'll discuss this when the sunlight has vanished entirely."

Penumbra's mother nodded, then picked up her daughter by the scruff of the neck and placed her on their bed. Penumbra peered at the red stegoceratops, who avoided her gaze, then frowned in confusion.

"What's he talking about, Momma?"

Her mother licked her cheek, then tucked her in.

"An opportunity, Penumbra. There may be hope for us yet."


	12. Wala

Monsanto made a habit of visiting the stables twice. He was in charge of food distribution for one quadrant, and since these were the healthiest (relatively speaking) individuals, he figured they'd do a lot better if they were given twice as much to eat. It was easy to pretend that he'd forgotten his load earlier in the day, so when he made his second round, the other soldiers just assumed he was a slacker. As for the prisoners he was feeding, they would often thank him for his generosity, which made his skin crawl. He shouldn't be thanked for showing a little compassion, especially when he was one of the people whose existence depended on keeping them in squalor. As much as he felt guilty for accepting their gratitude, he was glad that he was finally doing something right. But it couldn't last forever.

One dreary afternoon, Monsanto's supervisor caught on to what he was doing. It was quite possibly the worst time for him to do so, as Wala himself was present at the camps that day. He visited every month or so to see his vision come to life, and when he did, the ambiance of fear in the camps was multiplied by a thousand. To Monsanto's horror, when his supervisor returned to carry out his punishment, he proudly declared that he had reported his little escapade to Wala, who was now asking to see him. Monsanto felt as though he was carrying an ocean in his chest, and this news brought on a tidal wave. As he was escorted to the private office of their province's leader, Monsanto envisioned the worst possible outcome of the rendezvous. By the time he reached the door, he expected to be shot, and if this were the case, he wanted it to happen sooner rather than later so that the anticipation would not eat away at what was left of his soul.

As he entered the room, however, he realized that this was no place to dispose of someone messily. In fact, he might have mistaken it for a lavish foyer, had he not marched down a dark hallway only a few seconds ago. The gold and crimson ornamentation was suited for a theatre, or any luxurious building that was not meant to be used for utilitarian purposes. He felt like an intruder, barging in on this upper class chamber with his smudged boots and stained uniform.

The decor momentarily distracted him from Wala, who was sitting at his desk with a teacup in his hands. He blended in with his surroundings like a chameleon, and this lack of definition calmed Monsanto's fear, somewhat. He felt less threatened than before, but he could not deny that he was still the subordinate.

Wala looked up, and in a split second, Monsanto was forced to decide whether it would be wise to hold eye contact. He certainly didn't feel comfortable doing so, because the depth of Wala's eyes frightened him, as though he would fall into them like he would a well. Still, he gathered his courage and did not look away. There was movement in Wala's face, or perhaps Monsanto imagined it to convince himself that it was not possible for a man to be so still. He nodded to the empty chair in front of the desk.

"Sit."

Monsanto did as he was told, wondering whether he'd dirty the chair, which appeared to be velvet. Wala placed his tea on the desk, then leaned forward on his elbows.

"Do you know why I summoned you?"

Monsanto looked down.

"Not exactly, sir."

"You may think it's because we caught you overfeeding your drove, but the problem runs far deeper than that."

"With all due respect, sir, giving them more than the bare minimum required to keep them alive isn't exactly what I'd call overfeeding."

Wala smirked, then reached for his tea.

"You may think you're smart for being a rebel, but I assure you, there are consequences for such actions."

He took a long, deliberate sip of his beverage. Monsanto knew he was going out of his way to make him wait for an elaboration on his statement.

"You see, Monsanto, the stegoceratops race is impure. We cannot afford to keep them around for much longer, or at least not in their current state."

He stood up and opened the curtain, peering at the workers in the field.

"Do you know what separates us from the stegoceratops?"

"No, sir."

"They're animals, Monsanto. Just look at them. They have four legs, a tail, long muzzles . . . We may as well be letting cattle walk among us. It's disgusting."

"And that's why we're wiping them off the face of the Earth?"

"We're not killing them all, Monsanto. We're just putting them back in their place. Once their population has dwindled, we'll be able to breed them into submissive livestock. Look at those stocky bodies. We can use them. Humans will never have to work a day in their lives."

"But if they're already animals, sir, why do we need to change their biology?"

Wala shook his head.

"Don't play dumb, Monsanto. You know why. These animals can talk. They can think like humans. They can breed with us. If we allow them to continue, they could threaten our very existence."

"How?"

Wala sat down again.

"When I was a boy, humans were far more prominent. There were stegoceratopses among us, but their numbers were few. Now, I walk down the street and see dinosaurs and half-breeds around every corner. If I hadn't taken initiative, humans would be extinct."

"Not extinct, sir. Just changed. Only killing makes a species extinct."

Wala's eyes bore into him. He regretted speaking.

"Monsanto, you have not seen what the stegoceratops are capable of. I watched a feral dinosaur murder my parents for no other reason than the fact that he decided _he_ wanted to be in control. They're dangerous, Monsanto. A human with rights is one thing, but an animal that believes it has rights will stop at nothing until it is in power. Humans do not have horns. All of our tools are made from the resources we collect. A stegoceratops is a living weapon, and if they are allowed to believe that they are our equals, they will destroy us."

Monsanto thought about all the stegoceratopses who were currently being worked to death. It certainly didn't seem like they were the ones destroying a species.

"Monsanto, these creatures are monsters. You only need to look at them to understand that they are not like us. This is why we must destroy them. Pure humans should be preserved, and the only way to make sure that that happens is if we remove our only obstacle. The stegoceratops will become the soap that cleanses us. Do you understand?"

Monsanto sighed.

"I'm not sure. All of this destruction . . . It doesn't feel right."

"Of course not. Progress is never right. Do you think a tiger stops to consider whether slaughtering a deer is morally sound? If he did, he would starve. Life is not kind, or friendly, or compassionate. Life is brutal. It's war. Right now, there are two species competing for absolute control. We have hands that build great civilizations. The stegoceratops do not. If we lose our dexterity through crossbreeding, our way of life will change. Creatures that have no hands will revert to their brutish ways. The only purpose of a stegoceratops is to be our brawn. They will serve us in this way. By using them as nature intended, we will become the greatest civilization history has ever known. They are livestock. We are gods."

Monsanto looked down.

"Can't we live together in peace?"

"No, Monsanto. It is impossible. We are too different. The only reason humans are still around is that we struck first. If the stegoceratops had it their way, we'd be the ones in the camps."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. They kill without a thought."

"And what do _we_ do?"

Wala smiled sadly.

"We survive. There comes a point when you have to step back and realize that if anything is going to get better, people will get hurt. We've done experiments on the stegoceratops in another camp across the province, and you'd be surprised at how much we discovered. Lives have been saved because of our advances in surgical birth methods, and we owe it all to the procedures we tested on the stegoceratops. How many human lives will be improved by this research? How could you not believe it was worth it?"

"I'm sure the test subjects weren't thrilled."

Wala rubbed his temples.

"Monsanto, it's better to use them rather than our own. This isn't about their sentiments, it's about our future. We can only flourish if sacrifices are made."

"But is it right to favor progress over sympathy? I know it's difficult to get along all the time, but is it really necessary to silence one side?"

"It is. Monsanto, do you know what happened to your family?"

His heart quivered. Suddenly, he was willing to listen to his ruler.

"Do _you_ , sir?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Your father was killed by a rogue stegoceratops at a local tavern because of some ancient feud, the nature of which is unknown to us. Your mother was too poor to support a child, so she allowed us to raise you, giving you a new name and a hopeful future."

"A new name? What was my old one?"

"We don't keep records of such things."

Monsanto sunk into his chair.

"Oh. But you know where I came from? You know my mother?"

Wala shook his head.

"We lost track of her once the hall of records was destroyed. Everything we knew about her burned up with the rest of our history, and it was a stegoceratops that kicked over the oil lamp that set it ablaze, by the way."

Monsanto looked down at his lap, feeling his dream fading away.

"Is there no hope of finding her?"

"It's not likely. And you have a stegoceratops to thank for that."

"Are you sure?"

"You think I'd _lie_ about a stegoceratops being the cause of-"

"No, I meant: are you sure you can't find her?"

Wala ran his finger over the rim of his teacup.

"That depends. We have eyes that span our fair province, though they're focused on locating stegoceratops in hiding. Perhaps we could do you a favor, seeing how you're a respected soldier."

Monsanto beamed.

"Sir, I would be eternally grateful if-"

"Of course, with this little misunderstanding, some of your prestige might have . . . been compromised. Perhaps it would be wise to regain the trust of our empire."

Monsanto gulped.

"How?"

"By showing us that you support our cause. I'm not saying you need to kill, Monsanto, since your records show you're far too timid for such things, but this habit of overfeeding the prisoners has to stop. Think about it, Monsanto: what has your kindness accomplished? What can they give you in return? Nothing. Your generosity is being rewarded with hostility, and make no mistake, the stegoceratops would kill you in an instant if they had it their way. That's why you need to support your own. A human is kind, but a stegoceratops is selfish. Humanity is why you made the mistake of being too liberal with your rations, and humanity is why I'm giving you a chance to be more than what you are. Better yourself as a soldier, and reap the benefits. Ignore my advice, and watch how quickly your saurian friends turn on you."

Monsanto took a deep breath.

"I see your point, sir. I'll think about it."

Wala gave a compassionate smile.

"Please do. I'm sure your mother is dying to see you."


	13. Dawn

Monsanto thought about Wala's offer while the sky grew dark. The more he reflected upon his options, the more he leaned towards a view that would normally horrify him. He justified his mindset by convincing himself that he had done enough to help the stegoceratops, and it was time for him to do something for himself. Try as he might, he couldn't make himself believe it fully. More than anything, he wanted to meet his mother, but he knew how selfish it was of him to put his own needs before literally millions of sentient creatures. He had seen the kindness in the hearts of his dinosaur brothers. Wala was wrong about them. They were not brutes, nor were they animals. They were people, albeit people who looked very different from the humans he knew.

Although he believed that it was wrong to detach himself emotionally, Monsanto was tempted to simply carry out Wala's orders without thinking about the implications. How easy would it be to ignore what was going on? Could it be done? No, Monsanto did not think he could face anyone if he attempted such things. The only thing keeping him from turning into a monster was his ability to feel guilt. Not that it did much good, obviously, since he was still working in the camps. But it was there. Shame made him think, and thinking was desirable. It was the only way to come to a conclusion, after all, and what Monsanto decided was that it would be better to never meet his mother at all than to see the horror on her face when she learned what he had done. The decision made his heart ache, nonetheless.

"Monsanto!"

Bayer jogged up to him, gun rattling on his shoulder.

"I heard you talked to Wala. What'd he say?"

Monsanto took a deep breath and forced a smile.

"He offered to track down my mother."

Bayer's eyes went wide.

"Really? Monsanto, I'm so happy for you. I know how much you want this."

Monsanto gave him a puzzled look.

"Why the sudden interest in my dreams? I thought you hated talking about them."

Bayer shrugged.

"I've been thinking about that, and you're right about a lot of things. I talked to the stegoceratopses in my drove, and . . . well, there's this girl. She's really sweet, and we get along quite nicely. I even gave her extra food, today."

Monsanto raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have a crush on her?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She's like a person to me, which is funny, because she's an animal, but we have so much in common. We grew up in the same town, it turns out, and we frequented the exact same bakery. I don't remember seeing her there, but we both ordered honey cakes every week. Isn't that crazy?"

"What part?"

"All of it. Us never running into each other, us being so similar, us ending up here . . ."

Bayer suddenly realized that the connotations of his last statement were rather foreboding.

"Monsanto . . . Do you think they'll have to kill her? I mean, I've really gotten used to having her around, and it's been so lonely . . ."

He took a shaky breath.

"I love her, Monsanto. She's like no stegoceratops I've ever met . . . Well, I haven't met a lot, admittedly, but she's nothing like Wala says . . ."

Monsanto watched as the truth dawned upon Bayer. His face softened, then displayed horror, then became confused.

"I don't understand, Monsanto. Aren't we the good guys? My entire life, I've been taught one thing, and I've always believed that straying from that path would lead me to my doom, but now everything is changing . . ."

Monsanto took a deep breath and placed his hand on Bayer's shoulder.

"I know it's hard. We have to do the right thing. Let's leave this place. There's nothing for us here."

Bayer winced.

"I'd like to, but I can't leave Rosalie behind."

Monsanto nodded, then looked to the East, where the stables were located.

"I understand. There might be a way. Tonight, security is low around the pens because of Wala's banquet. We could tell the guards that we have orders to move her, and when we reach the pillars by the West entrance, we'll sneak her into the forest with us."

"We'll be fugitives."

"It's a better life than what we have here."

Bayer nodded.

"Alright. Let's do it. Do you really think we'll make it?"

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Suddenly, Monsanto's heart was pounding. He was doing it. He was really doing it. He was going to escape. He was going to be free. All he had to do was liberate one stegoceratops, and he would never have to be afraid again. He peeked around a corner to scout out the area, then nodded.

"You know which drove she belongs to?"

"Of course."

"Can you get her?"

"Yeah. It may take some time to convince-"

Suddenly, a siren blared, echoing between stone walls. Bayer and Monsanto flinched, then scanned their surroundings with wide eyes.

"They're onto us!" Bayer shrieked.

"No, look!"

A group of stegoceratops charged through one of the gates. It was a prison break. Bayer began to hyperventilate.

"We don't have much time! We have to get Rosalie!"

Monsanto shook his head.

"We can't. This changes our plan. We have to wait for-"

Bayer wasn't listening. He charged forward before Monsanto could grab him. The escaping herd was headed straight for him.

"BAYER, STOP!"

Monsanto dashed across the cobblestone, hoping to pull him back. There was too much distance between them.

"BAYER!"

Monsanto watched in horror as the thundering stegoceratops approached him. Bayer noticed them, and began to stumble backwards, dropping his gun. The lead stegoceratops slowed a little, then very deliberately drove his horn through Bayer's chest before fleeing. Monsanto screamed. By the time he reached his friend, he was dead. Bayer's eyes were still open, and he was bleeding out of the corner of his mouth. Monsanto knelt beside him, shocked. He was petrified for a moment, but the sound of an aggressive low caught his attention. He glared at the stegoceratops herd, which was approaching a second gate. He grabbed Bayer's gun and pursued them.

The animals were much faster than he was, but he did not slow down. The rest of the soldiers had cut off the front of the group, it seemed, because there was gunfire and a string of terrified moos. Monsanto leapt over the body of a male stegoceratops, determined to prevent any of the rebels from escaping. As he reached the gate, he noticed a dead soldier lying in the grass. Although the skull had been crushed by the foot of a stegoceratops, he was sure that the corpse belonged to Siemens. Monsanto caught sight of a dark animal moving into the forest, and pursued it.

He found the escaped stegoceratops by a large chasm. It was attempting to cross using a fallen log that led to the other side. Below, a river foamed and jetted out of control. There was nowhere to go. Without a second thought, Monsanto lifted his gun and shot the beast three times.

It was then that Monsanto heard a scream. He hadn't noticed before, but on the other side of the chasm was a younger stegoceratops, the daughter of the dinosaur Monsanto had just killed. She screamed and called out to her mother, who had long since disappeared beneath the water. Then she looked up and met Monsanto's eyes. He was sure she couldn't see his face, but he felt her staring into his soul. It was then that he realized the gravity of his actions. Monsanto trembled, gun rattling in his arms. The child turned abruptly and ran into the forest.

Monsanto had time to follow her. In fact, he wanted to. He wished he could just drop his gun and catch up to the girl, so that he could explain that he hadn't meant to kill her mother, not really. He wanted to lead her through the forest, to bring her somewhere safe so that he could lessen the impact of his crime. He wanted to help her in any way possible, but he could not. He had done something so terrible that she would never forgive him. To her, he was a monster, and nothing would ever change that.

Monsanto turned away from the chasm slowly. He was no longer the same man he was five minutes ago. His mistake had ensured that from now on, his life would be judged by one moment in which he had made an unthinkable decision. In theory, he didn't have to tell anyone, but that didn't change the fact that he would always remember what he had done. He was a murderer.

Although he could not conceal this crime that would mark him for life, he could try to do something to repent. He made a vow to never harm another stegoceratops as long as he lived, and perhaps longer. In fact, he would do quite the opposite. Whenever he could, no matter the circumstance, he would help the victims of this genocide. He would take on the burden of freeing them one by one. If he was lucky, he might be able to stop Wala.

But that would take a miracle.

*************ITC***************

Penumbra dragged herself up the side of a mountain that overlooked the camps. She could see massive pillars of black smoke rising towards the sky, mixing with the clouds that had begun to sprinkle the grey buildings. The dirt turned to mud, and the camps glistened with cold slime. Penumbra stared down at the prison for a long time, then continued on her way.

She had lost her voice after screaming for her mother, and her eyes were stinging from tears. She ached all over because of her osteoporosis, and now her feet were sore from climbing. She felt this discomfort, but did not care. Her mother was gone. She had no past, and no future. Everything she had ever known was in the process of being destroyed.

And so, as the sun began to rise over the camps, she climbed further and further away, liberated, but not free. The forest was peaceful. The chirping of birds and woodland creatures broke the silence as light seeped between tree trunks. Penumbra did not hear them. She continued to march with her head held low.

When she reached a ledge that overlooked the uncivilized portion of the province, Penumbra paused. She knew it was unsafe to look directly at the sun, but it reminded her of a story her mother was fond of. The Queen of the Stegoceratops would descend from the sky on a ball of fire, according to legend. Perhaps she would come soon.

Penumbra did not feel hopeful, but she anticipated the arrival of her Queen. She believed the legends fiercely, and perhaps even more now that her mother was gone. She would go on believing for the both of them, though she was empty inside. Of all the promises she made, meeting the Queen was the only one she was still able to keep. And so, she made a vow that she would do just that, for herself and for her mother.

As dawn crossed the land Penumbra had once called home, she began her long, hollow wait.


End file.
